A Brother's Gift
by pharaohskitty
Summary: How did Arthur's Knights end up with their horses in the movie? So many Greys...so little explanation.


"We are not even Romans, let alone a commander to be flattered by gifting him with a fine stallion straight from the breeding herds of Bremetenacum." Tristan spit a stray apple seed onto the ground and continued, "He's a beauty with a fine wit and excellent pace. I envy you your "gift". What did you decide to name him?"

"Charisma."

Tristan rolled his eyes. The poor horse was named "Gift". Arthur was a man with no imagination when it came to these things. Well, it was better than the last one. The poor horse probably was the only ignobly named steed in the grasslands of Arthur's Heaven, which is undoubtedly where the poor thing ended up instead of being reborn as a true warrior should be.

Tristan waited patiently as Arthur considered the problem. Normally they had two or three steeds apiece in training but lately the Britons had become desperate in their efforts - attacking the horses as if they were themselves the hated Roman occupiers. A shrewd tactic, and Arthur attributed it solely to the new leader of the rebels. This Merlin was a dangerous tactician. He always seemed to know how to hurt the Romans the most.

"I hear there are horse herds in the South, closer to the ports."

"Yes. But they're down there and we're up here."

"Ai. I hear that they're bringing up strings of horses for the Roman calvary units to look over down at Eboracum. That's but a week or two for us to travel there and back. The only thing is...we'll need a Roman to do the buying."

"Why?"

"They refuse to sell to the mercenary auxiliary. How do you think they'll take to selling to Sarmatian conscripts? We're little better than slaves to them."

Arthur's face tightened with anger but he said nothing. It was difficult enough to get the Romans who worked with the Sarmatians day in and day out and knew their worth as warriors and men to show the proper respect for his Knights. Their reputation had grown over the last few years until tales of them had passed throughout the Empire and flown as high as the papal ears and STILL they were treated as little better than barbarian slaves when they left the forts along the Wall itself.

Arthur came to a decision and snarled, "I'll go. They'll not refuse to sell to a Roman Calvary Officer."

Tristan snickered. "Particularly if they don't know WHAT Calvary you're the commander of..." He paused and asked thoughtfully, "Flavius Pollus and you are about the same height. You think his breastplate would fit?"

Arthur groaned as he realized that he'd have to dress the part of a proper and suitably flashy Roman officer instead of wearing his own more distinctly unique garb. Tristan continued to look thoughtful and Arthur looked Heavenward seeking help against whatever no doubt necessary plan was being hatched in Tristan's mind. He sighed, resolving to endure whatever it took to acquire decent mounts for his men. They deserved the best and as God witnessed him, they were going to get the best.

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They met at the river's edge. Galahad and Gawain ambled up to the already comfortably sprawled Tristan and Lancelot. Tristan looked up from honing the already perfect edge of his dagger and smiled as the two bickered like siblings born nine months apart. They acted more like brothers to each other than they had to their own brothers before those lads had been killed. Perhaps it was their mutual losses that pulled them together, sometimes seeming closer than any family bond could account for.

"I found the perfect mount for your little brother, Gawain. If only the boy can handle him."

Gawain grinned with confidence, "He can handle anything with four legs and most idiots fool enough to test him that go about on two." Laughing deep from his chest, Gawain dodged the apple core Tristan threw at him from the ground on being reminded of what had happened the last time Tristan had thought to test Galahad's skills. The boy had grown into a capable warrior and Tristan hadn't seen it before ending flat on his back in the practice ring.

Galahad smirked, sobered and remarked thoughtfully, "I saw a horse that would be well for you, Tristan. She's..." He shrugged, unable to find the appropriate words to describe her. Tristan's shocked gaze revealed his astonishment that the boy had even thought of him among the bustle of traders and whores, Romans and the bounty of horseflesh that had to make the boy's fingers itch to try their paces. Galahad was a reluctant warrior even if proficient at it, but give the lad a horse and he was a hunter back home on the grasslands if only for a moment. Tristan swallowed and looked down at his dagger, bereft of words. He wasn't used to being thought of. It still came as a surprise when Arthur asked him what he thought.

Lancelot spoke up quietly to fill in the awkward halt as Tristan collected himself. "I saw a steed that when I watched it I knew it was for Gawain. I believe we HAVE to acquire that one at least."

"I look forward to seeing these wonderful horses that have so impressed my Knights." Arthur's voice resonated under the shading broad branches of the oak above them. Startled, they swung their heads around as one and then had to stifle various inappropriate reactions, mostly by biting the heels of their hands. Lancelot was unable to control himself at all and just guffawed, waving in Arthur's general direction. Gawain studiously looked at the ground, trying to work his face back into its usual unperturbed cheerful mien without grinning madly at Arthur's expense. Galahad bit his hand and turned his back on Arthur, his shoulders shaking suspiciously hard. Tristan...Tristan merely looked satisfied and rose to his feet, walking around Arthur to inspect the now embarrassed commander most thoroughly and nodded satisfied at the beaming Jols trailing him.

"Looks just like that idiot legate that came through last year to inspect the forts, does he not?" Tristan questioned the still howling Lancelot without really expecting an answer. "Now don't forget to hold the perfumed cloth up to your nose as if to ward off the smells and fuss with your tunic and armor as if to keep them clean. Try..." Here even Tristan smiled a little. "Try to mince a bit and act as if buying horses is beneath you, hide behind your "mercenary guard" as if you're terrified of the Briton fiends. Then turn the details over to your servant. Remember to focus on any other horses besides the ones we want. Jols is a shrewd bargainer and he'll have these stuck up farmers wailing for mercy in no time." He coughed and evened out a smile that threatened to escape. "Nice knees, Arthur. If any of these horse breeders swing to the old ways, they'll be so blinded they'll GIVE us the horses."

Arthur looked heavenward, lifted the square of cloth and prepared to act the part of a pampered, overbred and overindulged patrician Roman. The things he did for his men, damn them all to wearing something equally uncomfortable in Purgatory. Shifting the absolutely useless gaudy dress armour that Flavius had lent him, Arthur resolutely minced away. Stopping, he looked back at his unmoving supposed "guards" who were still trying to control themselves and wiping tears from their eyes and arched a patrician brow with shocked surprise. In a falsetto that reduced all of them to their knees on the ground, he lisped archly, "Well, lead me to these magical beasts, thirs. I won't be able to find them on my own."

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Tristan led them to the pen containing a young stallion full of the fire and brimstone of the devil according to the owner who seemed only too glad to be getting rid of the beast to the idiot Roman calvary officer who didn't seem to suspect the uselessness of a horse that couldn't be trained. Lancelot led the way to the pen where a stolid mare was munching her way through the provided feed with absolute rapt attention. Her handler too seemed glad to be rid of what he deemed a horse fit only to pull a plow or wagon. Last they came on a pen where several horses milled around in fretful excitement, except one that slept head down and all the others gave wide berth to. The breeder himself seemed to value her, but was grateful enough for the sale since the rest of his string seemed to be attracting little enough interest from the Romans.

"Odd that they're all greys, isn't it Jols?"

Jols shrugged at Arthur's question and helped the man slip off the too tight straps of the adorning dress armour. The Sarmatians had taken greedy possession of their new mounts and were even now speaking softly to them in the glade they'd set up camp in. Arthur looked on, sweetly satisfied that they'd gotten the best of the lot - although he was mystified by how his Knights had chosen these mounts for each other. As each Knight bid his new companion good night and drifted closer to the evening cookfire, he saw the bonds between horse and soon-to-be rider already forming.

Once everyone had settled and began eating the fine meal Jols had prepared for celebration, Arthur cleared his throat and asked out of curiosity, "Just how did you know these were the ones?"

Uncharacteristically, it was Tristan that answered first, "That young stallion there. He's just like Galahad. Full of fire and too smart to suffer quietly when he's being ill-used. Speaks his mind and lets you know how he feels." Blushing, he looked down at his plate as he quickly mumbled the rest, "A warrior right and true."

Once again, Lancelot covered the sudden awkward silence of Tristan's with his own observation, "And the mare I picked for Gawain, too, is just as he is. Not only is she sturdy and evenly paced, but when I saw her this morning... she acted just as he does." He paused, looking into the distance as if seeing it again in his mind's eye. "Two high strung geldings who thought perhaps that they were yet stallions were being fractious and fighting hoof and tooth over the hay provided and not allowing any others to enjoy any of the bounty. SHE moved right in, nipped them both and plonked herself between and DARED them to try to move her. They both backed off at once and behaved very meekly." Lancelot colored as he realized the others were smiling at him and the embarrassed yet again Tristan as they recalled Gawain knocking their heads together when they would have fought over a barmaid. They'd backed off and Gawain had claimed the girl's attentions for his own.

Arthur nodded and wisely smothered his smile. It would have been fair to return Lancelot's earlier enjoyment at his expense, but he found the prospect of further denting the proud warrior's ego too daunting. He didn't feel like soothing a humiliated Lancelot all the way back home. Turning to Galahad, Arthur asked quickly, "And what said to you that this one was for Tristan?"

Tristan stilled into a tight ball but Arthur could tell that he was waiting intently for what Galahad would say. Today had been a rare day in that his youngest Knight had avoided needling his oldest Knight for the entire sunlit hours. Praying silently, Arthur hoped that the trend would continue if only for a few more minutes. He knew that their mutual antagonism was based in the fact that they couldn't be at more opposite sides of human nature if they'd tried to be so. It was one of his more thorny trials, keeping the two of them from injuring each other some days. Thankfully, Gawain seemed to naturally rein in everyone around him when they went beyond what was healthy. It was perhaps a sin that every battle Gawain survived, Arthur thanked God for making his own life that much easier.

"I knew she was for him. She's clever. Knocked over a tack rail onto a bushel of apples so that they would roll into the pen where she could reach them. When they came to fetch the horses for watering, she was right there in front to go first. She seemed to KNOW that by going first the water would be less muddy... and then... when she got back from being run this morning, the first thing she did was roll and stretch and then she fell asleep to rest up, patient to wait for whatever would come." Galahad stopped and cleared his throat. The implicit 'just like Tristan' was foremost in all their minds. Arthur was surprised that Galahad, who so disliked what he considered savage behavior on Tristan's part, would have considered this so carefully.

Galahad seemed to be looking for just the right words as he started then stopped again and then looked right at Tristan saying as he did, "She's smart and clever and she'll help bring you back, even if you're not able to bring yourself."

Tristan looked up and met Galahad's eyes and nodded. He didn't reply, just rose to his feet and picked up his weapons to take the first watch. Galahad seemed embarrassed by his words and rolled up in his bedroll as quickly as possible, presenting his back. Likely, tomorrow they'd be at each other's throats again, but Arthur would treasure this day in his memory as a blessing from God. He turned in and looked forward to the return home. He wanted to get on with training Charisma.

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It was the second day on the way home when Tristan reappeared from scouting trailing a fine stallion, already matured and once again... a horse gone ghostly white from its birth color. A horse beyond price, beyond all reckoning. They'd all seen and admired the stallion at the fair, shook their heads as they'd dismissed the possibility of bargaining for it especially when they'd heard it was bound for Rome as a gift for a Senator. It was worth a barbarian King's ransom, the virtue of a dozen princesses, or all the gold in this miserable land.

Arthur gaped as Tristan rode up and held out the lead rope. Numbly, he took the line and faintly said, "Tristan?"

"We all gave something for it, though Lancelot gave the most. He's for you."

Arthur's mouth open and closed, trying to imagine how they'd acquired the stallion. "For me?"

Lancelot nodded and firmly said, "He's for you. You'll take him and not argue with us."

Gawain and Galahad grinned as they kicked they rode past leading their new mounts. "A fine herd stallion. Used to leading the way," Galahad laughed the words as he went by.

Lancelot smirked and said just before he urged his own mount to follow them, "Only this time... WE got to name the damn thing."

Tristan's face had a pleased pride to it. "We took a vote. That's what you Romans do, isn't it? Vote on everything?" Tristan rode up to the still in shock Arthur and nudged him on the arm. "Arthur?"

"How did you...?"

"Do you ask a Roman how he paid for a gift for you?"

Arthur's face burned at the rebuke. Sometimes Tristan had a knack for echoing his father's tones and evoking the abashed feeling that he'd never live up to his father's example of honorable behavior. "What did you name him?"

"We named him Silex."

"That's the best you lot could come up with?"

"It's better than Bardus, your last mount, or Lepus, the one before that and we expect this one to last a little longer. So we named him accordingly."

The sounds of Arthur and Tristan bickering over the quality of the names that had been bestowed on Arthur's horses wafted through the air and in the lead, Lancelot heaved a huge sigh of relief that Arthur hadn't inquired further about the horse's provenance. He grinned as Arthur slipped into the Sarmatian tongue to argue better with Tristan. Arthur was their brother as much as their leader and he was beginning to show their influence more each year. When it came time for him to go to Rome, would he fit among those who considered themselves superior to the barbarians or would Arthur find himself longing for the company of those who truly understood him?

Lancelot wondered if he'd fit among his family himself, or would he too find himself longing for the company of his brothers in arms? He snorted. Likely none of them would have to deal with that. That was all for another day. Today was for celebrating the fact they were alive and had found horses worthy of the names of warriors long dead.

Lancelot lifted his face up to the sun and gave thanks to gods he rarely thought to honor. Some memories were to be treasured and this trip was one of them. He'd hold it close as long as he could.

Finis

Bardus - Dolt

Lepus - Rabbit

Silex - Rock


End file.
